the kenridge
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انا الا ان O O
HOO
Chantry and Joel Gomez of Sessions who were cool enough to
put up with us. They had been hanging out for a few days already
and had many a tale to tell. Some of them even had to do with
snowboarding. While Chantry is telling Schmitt and the others
of his fabulous rapport with members of the Japanese women's
team, I took the opportunity to claim the last remaining bed.
The next morning I did what I do every morning. I woke up.
So far so good. One thing I wasn't dreaming about was the
weather. It was snowing. We eventually made it to the media head-
quarters and scored press passes. Schmitt requested a pass on
the basis of collecting info for a Schmitt Stix Snowboard proto-
type. Request denied. Schmitt consoled himself with a breakfast
of colon cancer, consisting of several pieces of undercooked bacon
and sausage; one of the first of many examples of Schmitt's brazen
refusal to adhere to healthy eating habits. We headed for the
slopes. Bryce and I decided to take one run before heading over
to the slalom area. Then another. And another. Okay, we didn't
make it to the slalom race the first day. Who wants to watch a
slalom race in a blizzard, anyway? Just get the results and watch.
the highlights on video later in the warmth of your condo. We
went to media headquarters that evening to check the results and
listen in on the rider's meeting. We were immediately approached
by an unnamed staffer from "International Snowgourd." He was
worried. He'd cast his eyes on an advance copy of the May issue
of THRASHER and his mind was alive with dreadful thoughts.
"Ummm...you guys aren't starting a snow mag, are you? I
Steel and P-tex prevail over crystal as Scott Palmer destroys the lip.
saw the new issue and...I mean, two snowboarding mags is
okay, but if there's another one, well..."
We decided to humor the guy. "Yeah, our first issue went to
press already. Haven't you got one of our 'Snowboard & Destroy'
t-shirts yet? They're back at the condo. We'll get you one later."
"Uh...yeah. Thanks." He walked off in search of a rope.
The rider's meeting confirmed our worst fears. The previous
night's food fight at the local pizza parlor had caused grave reper-
cussions. The relationship between the restaurant and the
snowboarders was strained at best.
We decided to take Joel up on his offer of free dinner at another
local Italian restaurant that evening. By the time our dinner came
we had already stuffed ourselves on garlic bread and brew, so
three "Italian Specials" went untouched. Oh well. The festivities
might have continued well into the night were it not for a stale
local boy band who sang songs about their dog. Shaun Palmer's
request for the theme song from "Action Jackson" went unfulfilled.
We bailed.
Morning came way too soon. The first day's activities had taken.
their toll. Everyone in our condo was burnt. Crisp. Done. Chantry.
was the first to come alive and began to spin tall tales of last night's
events. Bryce and I were only too sorry to learn of the presence
of the Japanese women's team only minutes after our departure.
We made a solemn vow to track them down, take photos, and
put them on the cover of our next Snowboard magazine..
After a quick breakfast we headed straight for the chairlift to
Karl Achenbach gets casual off the kicker with a nose-bone tall-grab. Not as easy as it looks.
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